bringing down my gravity
by Tigerlils.the.Chipmunk
Summary: For the Caesar's Palace July Prompt. Rated K plus because there is a very non-graphic death.


** bringing down my gravity.**

**A/N:**

**For the Caesar's Palace -that ISN'T in Vegas- July prompt. The bit of the prompt I used has to do with the title, bringing down my gravity. I just picked that line because all the rest were confusing. And in case I've written this so badly, just so you know, Markus is intended to be Lavinia's gravity. And then the Capitol bring him down. (Get it? No? Okay then.) **

**I don't own the Hunger Games. **

Sometimes it seems to Lavinia that she's been a refugee, of sorts, her entire life. And perhaps she has been, as she doesn't really consider her life before the Capitol Rebellion to have been much more than a frivolous existence, if that. Yes, she's definitely been a fugitive from the moment she was recruited for the Rebelling force in the Capitol to now, as she hurries through the woods near District Twelve on the run from the Capitol.

She sneaks a glance at the boy on her left, Markus. He's just one year older than her at 17, and not even distantly related, but to an uniformed eye they could be siblings. Both of them have dark red hair, made even more striking by the fact that in the Capitol, natural hair colours like red and brown and black are shunned, almost abolished. And they've both got the same characteristic determination which had led both in turn to join the rebelling force. But as the sun sinks over the trees, and a sudden chill becomes apparent, Lavinia feels a traitorous worm of doubt awake in her stomach. Was her best option in the Capitol really joining the rebels? She quells the worm. Of course it was a good idea to join the rebels. Of course . . .

"We'll stop here," Markus says, effectively interrupting her train of thought. Lavinia slings her bag off her back and dumps it at her feet thankfully. "I'll get the wood," he continues, "'s not as if there's a shortage around here, anyway." This attempt at grim humour tells her that Markus is just as bone weary as she, but also that he remembers she works best alone.

And she does. In less than an hour they have the fire ready and have eaten a small portion of their meagre food supply. Lavinia's stomach growls now at the mere mention of food, but she wouldn't mention it, not in a million years. Markus is stressed enough without having to worry about her nourishment-craving stomach. She shivers, and wraps her thin jacket around her to better keep the cold out.

It's moments like these, with the fire down to flickering embers and the night's damp chill setting in, when she really debates her choice of joining the Capitol rebels. There really isn't much regret, though, even when she searches really deep inside of herself. The only thing she possibly regrets is her parents' death, and even that wasn't the rebels' fault. They'd all known the risks, and taken them gladly. It was just a twisted fate that let the Peacekeepers catch her parents, that let her be passed over and unseen while the authorities searched her house. The same twisted fate that saved her when so many of her comrades were publicly executed -shown only in the Capitol, of course. It would never do to let the Districts know there had been an uprising- and the same fate that had let her meet Markus.  
(Not that meeting Markus will ever be regrettable.)

She wonders whether what he's thinking is along the same lines. Whether he's thankful he has her. He must like her just a little bit, because didn't he stick to her, leave with her, in that great mass escape? Didn't he pull her away from the main direction to one of the barely beaten tracks, and didn't she find out later that everyone fleeing that way were caught?

"You alright, Lavinia?" he asks suddenly. The question surprises her.

"Yeah," she says quietly, fiddling with her shoelace. "Just cold, and . . . Yeah."

He sighs. "I know. But we'll be fine, really."

"Which District are we heading to?" she asks, half for the sake of conversation, and half because he hasn't said and she's curious.

"I've been thinking about that. I guess our best bet is to head down near Thirteen, and then turn and make our way to Five that way. If we head straight track from here. . ." He lets the sentence trail off, and she finishes it for him.

"They'll anticipate it and catch us when we cut through Six." There's no need for her to voice who "they" is. Spoken in such a derisive way, it can only mean the Capitol.

"Yeah. Whereas if we head around Twelve, through the ruins of Thirteen, we should make it undetected."

She frowns. "And when we get there?"

"We'll work or something. We're better fed then they'll be, even with the little food we've been eating lately. There must be at least grunt work we can do." He grins reassuringly at her. "Don't WORRY, Lav."

"Lav? she asks mock-witheringly.

"Lavinia's too long," he says by way of an explanation. Then he leans over and takes her hand, squeezes it. She feels a thrill go right through her body, and has to hold back a delighted shiver. "We'll be fine," he repeats. "We've got each other, don't we? That's enough for me."

At this, a delighted smile escapes her, perfectly matching his grin. "Yes," she agrees. "We've got each other."

/

(Deep down, she knows it's too good to last. Not in this world, ruled by the Capitol. )

/

Her forebodings prove correct. Two days later, they are tracked down by a Capitol hovercraft, and Markus is killed. His last words are her name, groaned out the last time she sees him - just before she is caught in a net and dragged upwards into oblivion.

Similarly, when her tongue is cut out, she remembers to murmur his name just once more, let the syllables roll comfortingly over her tongue. _I'll see you again, Markus_, she thinks. _I know you're waiting for me, somewhere in that place of freedom and equality you always talked about. And I'll come find you. We'll be together, I promise._


End file.
